


we were under the same sky at least

by rories



Series: moonlight and you [1]
Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-23
Updated: 2018-12-23
Packaged: 2019-09-25 06:31:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17116223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rories/pseuds/rories
Summary: Loki sees Valhalla. It’s as beautiful and bright as he always imagined, with towering spires that glitter in the unnatural light. Everyone he’s ever known is there, waiting, a smile as bright as the sun on his mother’s face.  Everyone he’s cared about in his too short life is here.  All but two.





	we were under the same sky at least

**Author's Note:**

  * For [silverducks](https://archiveofourown.org/users/silverducks/gifts).



> hi! this is set post-iw and does take a little bit of a handwavey approach to what *could* happen in A4. i wasn't about to attempt to write a whole theoretical war on time lol. still, i hope you enjoy it. 
> 
> there are mentions of thor/valkyrie and tony/pepper in this, but they are very extremely brief. 
> 
> shoutout to @marvelsamwilson for the beta and @murdur for just being amazing.
> 
>  
> 
> [title credit](http://story-dj.tumblr.com/post/165491556301/the-same-sky-a-poem-from-my-brand-new-poetry-book)

Loki sees Valhalla. It’s as beautiful and bright as he always imagined, with towering spires that glitter in the unnatural light. Everyone he’s ever known is there, waiting, a smile as bright as the sun on his mother’s face. There is Volstagg, a bright grin on his face. Fandral with a smirk. Hogun with a small nod. Heimdall with a stoic and ever present all knowing look. There is no Sif and the small burst of joy in Loki’s heart is a slight shock. His father of course is there, nodding and smiling knowingly, a look of pride on his face that Loki soaks up. And his sweet mother, already moving to embrace him, joy radiating from her so much that Loki can’t help but smile back, wrapping himself around her small frame. 

Everyone he’s cared about in his too short life is here.

But there is no Thor. 

Loki had always known he’d go first. It was his nature as a mischief maker. So it’s no surprise that Thor is not there. 

But Loki remembers his final moments, knows the strength of Thanos’ own hand, and knows Thor isn’t far behind. 

He turns, looks down the rainbow bridge that led him here, and watches. 

And waits. 

His mother cannot convince him to join her, his father cannot force him. Loki stands at the edge of the bridge and waits. 

For Thor who never comes. 

Loki isn’t sure if he’s relieved or angry. Relieved that it might possibly mean that Thor survived Thanos’ attack, as unlikely as that seems. Angry that Thor is not with him again, as he said they would be. 

_"I assure you, brother, the sun will shine on us again."_ Loki’s own words echo in his thoughts over and over, louder and louder as the time stretches on and still there is no sign of Thor. _Or Sif_ his subconscious supplies and he immediately tamps it back down. He tries to let the relief of them being missing overtake the loneliness, but the feeling is still there. 

Loki talks to his mother. After holding her for long moments upon seeing her face again, he reveals his relief and loneliness about the missing. He tells her of Thanos’ attack, face heating when he skirts his involvement with Thanos’ quest for the stones. He knows that his mother knows the worst of him, but the small child inside of him is still trying to make her proud. Frigga does her best to soothe Loki’s fears, but her desire to keep him near means her words are designed to placate instead of encourage. 

His father is around during these talks as well, never saying much, and the small bits of conversation he decides to contribute are as confusing as always. He shouldn’t be surprised when Odin sets himself near Loki and sighs a deep sigh. Loki is still watching the end of the bridge, waiting for the appearance of his brother or Sif, waiting for the moment when his family is complete again. 

“You should return,” Odin says, breaking the silence with his commanding voice. Loki looks at him from the corner of his eye and quirks an eyebrow. 

“Father?” 

“Return to Midgard. Help your brother.” Odin turns to look at his son more fully. 

“How, pray tell, would I do that, father?” Loki says, sarcasm dripping from his silver tongue. 

Odin slides his gaze to the side, staring out to Valhalla and smirking just the slightest. “You are the God of Mischief, are you not? You managed to sneak Frost Giants into Asgard, did you not? I trust, my son, you will find a way.”

Loki tries to ignore the twinge of accomplishment at the words “my son” and watches his father as he stands and walks silently away, having said his piece. 

Loki sits for long moments, rolling his father’s words around in his head. He’d never heard of anyone leaving Valhalla of their own volition. Everyone knew that once you were here, there was no going back. But Loki was, at this point, a Master of Death. 

It takes him some time to find an exit, how much he doesn’t know; time feels different here. But eventually he finds his way out of Valhalla. He says goodbye to his father, nodding in thanks after Odin sets his hand on his son’s shoulder. He says goodbye to Frigga, clinging just a little bit tighter than before when she wraps her arms around him. Heimdall and the Warriors Three wish him luck and shake his hand, Heimdall pulling him aside for a moment. 

“Loki,” the man starts, and Loki tries not to show how startled the guardian’s tone makes him. “Please find Sif,” Heimdall continues, his golden, all-seeing eyes showing a desperation Loki has rarely seen. “Find my sister.” 

Loki swallows the lump in his throat, an audible click of his throat settling between them. “Of-of course,” he says. “It may not mean much, but I give you my word.” 

Heimdall is silent for a long moment, staring at Loki long enough that he squirms under his gaze. “I’ve seen your heart,” he finally says. “I trust your word.” 

Loki swallows again and then nods, stepping back and turning from the group. He hasn’t told them about how he plans to get out of Valhalla, so he gives them all one last look and then blinks. 

\-----

When Loki opens his eyes, he’s in the same gray green fields of Norway he and Thor had found themselves in when Odin had left them. Where their sister had appeared and started this whole path to Valhalla. He’s not sure at first why he was led here, to this place that carries unhappy memories, until he hears a gasp behind him. 

The sun is peeking over the horizon as he turns slowly, unsure of what he’ll find when he turns around. He’s expecting some unassuming Midgardian, shocked that a man had appeared in front of them. What he finds instead is his brother, slowly standing from the boulder he was sitting on. 

Thor looks almost the same as the last time he saw him. The major change is where there was once an eyepatch is now a mismatched eye, brown instead of Thor’s bright blue. Loki lets a smile crawl across his face as he catches his brother’s eye. 

“This better not be a joke,” Thor mutters, stepping closer and reaching a hand out to grip Loki’s arm. His brother’s hand clenches when it lands on him, as if he can’t believe he’s real. 

“It’s not a joke, brother,” Loki says. “I’m here to help,” he barely gets out before Thor is pulling him into a tight embrace and breathing a deep sigh of relief. 

\-----

Thor explains everything that’s happened since Loki died, pausing when Loki needs to stop and put his head between his knees. Half the universe’s population gone in a literal snap is a hard concept to get around. He’d known that was Thanos’ plan for a long while, but had never expected him to accomplish it. 

Loki tells Thor of those that he saw in Valhalla, skirting around the issue of having not seen Sif. But Thor sees right through him, and for a moment Loki wonders if he always has, because he leans toward his brother, knocking him with his shoulder, before muttering, “She’s here, you know.” He pauses for effect. “Sif.” 

Loki tries not to show his relief, but he does knock his shoulder against his brother’s, mirroring his earlier move. “That’s good to hear.”

“Valkyrie is here too!” Thor exclaims, leading him to an apartment building and up a set of stairs. 

“Joy,” Loki mutters, pulling himself up behind his brother. 

The apartment is small and well lived in and Loki wonders briefly who it belongs too. An ax is propped up against a wall near a set of daggers on a table and a longsword nearby. One entire wall is covered in newspaper clippings and photographs, pie charts and reports, red and green and purple strings tying them all together in a giant web. 

He’s following the line of a green string from a report of lights in the sky to a picture of a man in a dark suit, no idea what it means yet, when he hears a throat clear behind him. When he spins around, Sif is there, dressed in Midgard clothing, a look he’s never seen on her before. 

Her jeans make her legs look longer than ever, the leather jacket makes her seem imposing and hard, but there’s a grin on her face when he completes his turn. He can’t help the smile that grows across his face in return and he braces himself when he sees her start to move toward him. 

Her embrace is like a warm breeze settling over him. She is still strong under her Earth clothes and she allows him to cling to her in a way they hadn’t done since they were teenagers. She smells likes cloves and cinnamon and she laughs when his hands clench against her shirt. 

“It’s good to see you, Loki,” she says, finally pushing back from him and looking him up and down. 

“And you, Lady Sif,” Loki replies. He’d be embarrassed by his reaction to seeing both Thor and Sif, but dying changes a man. 

There’s a small moment of awkward silence as their arms fall back to their sides and Loki’s eyes shift from Sif’s face to anywhere but. Finally, Thor returns to the room, Valkyrie at his side and Loki waves, greeting the other woman as well. 

“So,” Loki says, looking around the room. “What’s the plan?”

\-----

He’s not sure how it happens, them being so underpowered, but they do it. They defeat Thanos. 

Looking back, he’ll remember the remaining Avengers, a time travelling warrior he thinks was named Carol, and a lot of hope getting them through to the other side. And in the end, everyone who had been dusted, is back. Loki watches as there are reunions, friends and lovers and families finding each other again, and he smiles at their combined accomplishments. 

It’s bittersweet because some people didn’t make it, but all things considered, they defeated what could be considered the most powerful being in the universe, and they’re only a little worse for wear. 

Sif finds him as they’re celebrating at the Avengers headquarters. James Rhodes had dragged a Justice of the Peace out of bed for an impromptu wedding for Tony Stark and Pepper Potts, so fancy champagne is flowing and Thor has quietly broken open a locked liquor cabinet for the harder stuff. There will be a lot of fallout to deal with in the morning, but for now, there is patching people up and celebration. 

Sif sets herself on the step where Loki is perched, leaning back on the step behind her with her elbows. “We did it,” she says, only loud enough for him to hear. 

“We did,” Loki returns, just as quiet. He lets out a heavy sigh and turns to see Sif’s face, wincing when his ribs protest to the movement. 

Sif suddenly lurches forward, concern on her face. “Are you alright?” she asks, gently moving his hand from his side, gasping at the bloom of red that’s spread across his shirt. It’s not a lot and Loki knows the wound isn’t deep, but his ribs are clearly bruised and the edges of the cut sting when they catch on the cloth. “Loki,” Sif says, voice low but it’s loud in his ears. 

“It’s nothing,” he says, raising his head to catch her eye. “I’ll be alright.” His breath catches in his throat and he’d like to be able to blame it on his injury, but he knows, deep down, it’s the way her eyes are lit up in front of him, endless pools of a potential he won’t let himself think about. 

“Let me clean it up for you,” Sif suggests, moving his jacket aside to get a closer look. She doesn’t let him answer, just stands swiftly and offers a hand to him. Loki stares at it for a long moment, let’s his gaze travel up the muscles in her forearm and up to her face. She’s got an eyebrow quirked and she shakes her hand at him, silently urging him to take it. 

After another long moment, Loki finally grabs her hand, shivering as her warm fingers wrap around his cold ones. She’s gentle when she pulls him up and doesn’t seem to mind when he leans against her. She steers him away from the party, to a room that’s stark white and clean, but has a small table off to the side with several chairs. She directs him to sit in the chair and then moves to the cabinet, opening one that has a bright red bag behind the door. 

“Steve made us put First Aid Kits in every room,” she says and Loki nods as if he knows what she’s talking about. He figures it out when she opens it and he can see medical supplies filling it to the brim. 

He doesn’t say anything, but he can’t take his eyes off of her as she gathers a couple of bottles and some bandages. She doesn’t let on that she knows he’s watching, but he smiles slightly when he sees a blush crawl up her cheeks. 

“You’ll need to take off your shirt,” she says after clearing her throat. Loki smirks when she finally catches his eye, chuckling when she rolls hers. “It’ll make cleaning it easier, idiot.” 

“Yes, ma’am,” he replies and shrugs off his blazer. He lets it drape over the back of the chair he’s in and then sets about unbuttoning his shirt. He gingerly pulls the shirt from the skin around his wound, wincing when it tugs at the dried blood. By the time he gets the shirt off, Sif has settled herself in the chair in front of him. 

She leans forward, gauze in hand and a brown bottle on the table next to her. “This might sting a little,” she says, glancing up at him quickly, but not giving him time to respond before pressing the gauze to his side. 

Loki doesn’t feel anything for a moment and then he sucks a breath through his teeth, wincing and pulling away as much as he can. Sif’s other hand comes up to the opposite side of his chest to keep him from moving too much and Loki hears her huff a laugh out of her nose. “That hurts,” he mutters.

“Baby,” Sif says in response and laughs more fully and Loki finds for a moment that his breath is taken away. 

He lets her swipe away the blood that had dried around the wound, a shallow cut that was caused by the sharp claws of one Thanos’ minions. One that he had dispatched swiftly after the attack. Sif continues to clean the wound, blowing gently on it when Loki winces again at the sting of the antiseptic. Loki tries to tamp down the goosebumps that crawl over his flesh in waves, but even he’s not that strong. To make matters worse, the goosebumps are followed by a blush high on his cheeks, so he averts his gaze from her and looks around the room. 

Eventually, Sif finishes cleaning the edges of the wound, applies some antibacterial ointment, and covers it with a bandage, pressing against his ribs on both sides for a long moment. Finally, she stands, close enough that she is towering over him, looking down at him. 

“Are you injured anywhere else?” she questions, her gaze raking over him where he’s slouching in the chair. She hesitates only a moment more before reaching out a hand and running it through Loki’s hair. 

He can’t stop his eyes from fluttering shut and his head from leaning in to her touch, but a moment later he finds himself wincing again when she finds a sore spot on the base of his skull. When her hand pulls away, there are flakes of dried blood and she gives him a look that instantly chastens him. 

Loki remembers now, the wide swing of a errant weapon slamming in to the back of his head, blurring his vision for a moment before he shook it off. He hadn’t thought about it since, had other things to worry about instead. Now though, the pain is brought to the forefront with a tug of her fingers. “Loki,” she whispers, stepping around him, and he feels her part her hair to find the small cut there. She says it with such concern and admonishment that he still can’t bring himself to open his eyes and look at her. 

Instead, he listens as he hears her pulling her chair from in front of him to behind him, grabbing the kit along the way. She sets about taking care of him in the same manner, cleaning the wound and patching him up. He keeps his eyes closed. 

“Thor told me you were dead,” Loki hears in his ear from behind, soft and quiet. “He told me what you did.” 

Loki doesn’t say anything, just hums softly in return and tries not to shiver at the breath on his ear. “How are you here?” Sif finally asks, running her fingers along the hair at the base of his skull having finished patching him up. 

Loki doesn’t answer right away, just enjoys the feelings of her skin on his for a moment. “I’m the God of Mischief,” he finally answers. 

“But you were in Valhalla.” 

Loki sighs and drops his chin to his chest. “I was. It was...beautiful.” 

“Why did you leave?” The question is asked so quietly, Loki almost misses it. His head shoots up when it registers what she’s asked and he shoots a look at her, their faces inches apart. 

“Don’t you know?” he asks in return, eyebrows furrowing. 

Sif’s eyes wander over his face before settling again at his eyes, and he can see the glint of happiness behind them. “Tell me.” 

Loki breathes deeply and slowly for a moment, lets the quiet settle between them. He wants to answer her, wants to tell her that he came back for her, only her. 

He kisses her instead. 

Her lips are warm and soft against his cold and she tastes like champagne and victory. He wants to kiss her forever. 

Eventually though, she pulls back and lets a smile crawl across her face. Loki lets his own smile mirror hers before turning it into a smirk, finally answering her. “You.” 

\-----  
  
It takes months to clean up Thanos’ mess and Loki and Sif stay to help. There is no Asgard to return to, so Midgard is the next best place. Plus, Thor and Valkyrie are here. But eventually, Loki and Sif find themselves with no war to fight and no realm to go back to. 

Steve Rogers offers them space in Avengers Tower and they stay there for awhile. But eventually they figure they need to get their own place. They rent an apartment, big enough for the two of them. Thor and Valkyrie stay with them a lot and Bruce comes over. There’s still some bad blood between Loki and some of the other Avengers, but Sif assures him that he’s proved himself time and time again that he’s on their side. 

The two of them fall into routine and each other’s company and Loki doesn’t remember a time he’s been so happy. He keeps waiting for the other shoe to drop, but it never comes. Instead, he’s surrounded by warmth and happiness and family, things he’s never appreciated before now. 

Loki’s thinking about these things when Sif finds him, out on the small balcony of their equally small apartment. He’s sitting in the sun, watching the city below, when Sif sidles out, promptly settling herself in his lap. 

He holds himself still as she wraps her arms around him, making herself comfortable before resting her head on his chest. Only then does he wrap his own arms around her, pulling her even closer. They sit there in the sunshine for a long moment, and he knows she’s been thinking of the past few years, of the people they’ve lost. 

They’ve talked in the last few months about how they got here, about the years of unrequited feelings and his personal demons. He’s not sure how he got so lucky to have someone forgive him for all the things that he’s done, but between Sif and Thor both forgiving him, he knows he’s the luckiest man in the universe. Loki and Sif had talked about their feelings and what it had meant to them both that he’d returned not just for his brother but for her as well, that he had given up paradise to return to her. 

Sif reveals that she sometimes feels guilty that he came back for her, that he gave up Valhalla for her. Every time she feels that guilt creeping up, he’s always there to reassure her. Pressing her into the nearest wall or flat surface and wrapping his arms all the way around her. 

“Sif,” he whispers into her skin, her hair, her lips. “Lady Sif, I would leave a thousand Valhallas if it meant getting to be with you.” It makes her heart soar when he says such sweet words, that silver tongue of his always working their magic. “I would give up Valhalla for eternity to stay here with you.”

“You,” he says, “are my Valhalla.”


End file.
